“Emma! We need to talk seriously…”
Her husband walked through the door, still in his coat and shoes, blurting out before even crossing the threshold: “Emma! We need to talk!” Then, without pausing for breath, his already wide eyes opening even wider, he rushed on: “I’ve fallen in love!”
“Well, well,” Emma thought, “so the midlife crisis has finally come knocking. Hello there…” But she said nothing, simply studying her husband closelysomething she hadnt done in years. Five? Six? Maybe even eight?
They say your life flashes before your eyes before death. For Emma, it was her entire marriage that began playing out in her mind. Theyd met the usual wayonline. Emma had shaved off three years from her age; her future husband had added three centimetres to his height. A bit of harmless trickery, but just enough to squeeze into each others search criteria and… find one another.
She couldnt remember who messaged first, but she knew his letter had been free of vulgarity, laced instead with self-deprecating humoursomething she admired. At thirty-three and not exactly a beauty, she knew her chances on the dating scene were slim. If she wasnt in the last row, she was certainly in the second-to-last. So for their first date, she vowed to bite her tongue, listen intently, wear rose-tinted glasses (and lace lingerie), and tuck homemade biscuits and a volume of Dickens into her bag.
Surprisingly, the first meeting went smoothly (proof that the right outfit worked wonders!). Their romance burned bright and fast. They enjoyed each others company, so after six months of datingand relentless pressure from parents whod long given up on grandchildrenhe proposed. Introductions between families were swift, the decision to marry in a small ceremony unanimously approved, and the wedding date set for the earliest available slotbefore anyone could change their mind.
Life, Emma thought, was good. Their home was warm, more tropical than scorching, with the occasional seasonal squallbut always respectful and loving. Wasnt that happiness?
Her husband, ever the straightforward man, shed his “sensitive, romantic, teetotal handyman” persona within weeks of marriage, revealing himself as simply a hardworking, caring bloke in comfy trackies. Emma, being the more complex creature, loosened the corset of her “sultry, intellectual homemaker” act bit by bitthough pregnancy sped things along. Within a year, she too happily abandoned the straining facade, slipping into a cosy dressing gown with a sigh of relief.
That neither of them ran for the hills after dropping the act convinced Emma shed made the right choice. It cemented her faith in their little family unit.
Raising two children back-to-back rocked the boat now and then, but they never capsized. Once the storm passed, they sailed on, steady as ever. Grandparents helped where they could, careers crept upwards, and they still made time for holidays, hobbies, and each otherall while staying comfortably average.
Twelve years married, and not once had her husband been caught strayingor even flirting. Emma wasnt the jealous type; he couldve gotten away with it. The thought of him flirting made her smirkbecause the image in her head was downright absurd. Early on, after a few clumsy attempts at compliments, hed given up on words altogether. Now his admiration came in silence (or maybe ultrasonic waves?), his eyes bulging like a startled lemur.
Over time, Emma had learned to read his emotions by the roundness of his eyeswild admiration, mild approval, surprise, confusion, outright indignation. Now she imagined him showering compliments on some rat, his eyes growing wider and wider until
Her throat tightened. She forced a nervous smile. “So… whats this rats name, then?”
His eyes practically leapt to his forehead as he fumbled, stuttering: “Howhow did you? Wait, how did you even know it was a rat? Bloody hell… Youve got to see her, Emma, shes perfect! Soft, beautifuljust like you…”
From inside his coat, he produced a tiny grey rat with pink, translucent ears, a twitching pink nose, and beady black eyes…
Sometimes, love isnt where you expect itbut its always worth recognising when its real.
